


i got it bad (and that ain't good)

by tarantism



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Radio, jihoon is balancing uni and a band and the radio and his feelings for jun that's one talented boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarantism/pseuds/tarantism
Summary: in which jihoon joins the radio society, and finds a song in his heart.





	i got it bad (and that ain't good)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icantremember](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantremember/gifts).



> for. karenmay. thank u for being the best person on earth. i owe you more than just a shoddy, ongoing, 3-chaptered fic, but it's a start.
> 
> title taken from nina simone's song [of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8av28fydMw).
> 
> follow along with what jihoon is listening to for the best experience, and follow [his spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/k5qhot9vv771qmkkpu3bkyjws?si=InvvnSMYRG24yQY_9y_6ew) to see his playlists and what he's currently playing

_Yeah, it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,_

_And I’m feelin’ good._

 

Of course the song that comes on shuffle as he sets foot for the first time in his new home for the next few years, is [_Feelin’ Good_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5Y11hwjMNs). Jihoon steels himself and takes a deep breath and he looks out across the vast buildings and population of students flooding across the grounds. His dad would be proud that the song to set the precedent for his time here was a Simone classic, and he decides that yes, it’s a new life and during his time at college he was going to feel the best he had in years.

Now, as he stumbles across the campus dragging his overwhelmingly large suitcase behind him, Jihoon wishes that he hadn’t sent his parents on their way and declined the offer from the accommodating student that had asked if he needed help moving his stuff. He was his own worst enemy in this situation, as now he has to juggle the three bags on his arms as he tries to read the campus map and drag the suitcase along with him all at the same time. Jihoon huffs, blowing upwards so a thin strand of black hair in his eyes moves to the side of his face. He hadn’t wanted the awkward, emotional goodbye with his parents, but considering he was only just taller than the suitcase he’d packed for college – 5’6” at the ripe old age of eighteen – he thinks he could’ve suffered through it if it meant this whole moving-in ordeal being a whole lot easier. He supposes it could be worse, grateful for the beautiful late-September cloud-free day, refusing to imagine what this whole trouble would have been like in the showering rain. 

Even so, Jihoon is stuck in his current predicament whether he likes it or not, trudging on through the packed campus on the bustling pavements adjacent to nicely trimmed lawns and tall red-brick buildings all adorned with ‘welcome new students – from _insert respective department here_ ’ banners. He tries to take it all in as much as possible over the map under his nose, eyes darting from the grid on the paper where he had located his dorm to the bright eyes and looks of excitement painted on everyone’s faces that he passes. Parents mutter to their kids words of encouragement or statements similar to ‘I wish I had enrolled here when I was younger’ or ‘wow, do they still have applications open?’ et cetera, et cetera. His parents had been the same when they had come to see the college on its open day the year prior, shaking him by the shoulders when the prospect of him going to college became a sudden reality for them.

The suitcase’s wheels rattle and bang as it rolls along the concrete path, Jihoon slowly but surely making his way to his dorm. He should’ve also predicted the amount of people moving in that Saturday, he realises as he finally makes it off the stretch of path linked to the entrance and car park. The pavement is a bit clearer now and he makes good progress with his items in tow behind him, heading in the general direction of where he believes his dorm is: on the complete opposite side of campus to where he’s currently walking; but he’ll get there, he’s determined.

He loses all determination after fifteen minutes of walking in what feels like circles around the registration building, now clutching his new student id between his teeth, keys jingling in his pocket. Much to his chagrin, Jihoon knows he’s lost and that the crowd is only thickening around the administrative building like heavy smog that’s ready to choke him if he doesn’t escape right then and there. He moves to the side to figure out where he is and where to go next, parking his suitcase down onto an open space of lawn where he spreads out the map on his lap. He knows he’s walking in circles but he doesn’t know how to stop himself from repeating his steps. 

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon doesn’t react to the voice beside him. He doesn’t know anyone here at college so he bets on it being another student’s parent asking for help or asking to move out of the way. Only as the question is repeated and he feels a tap on his shoulder does Jihoon glance up with a startled look on his face.

The boy before him is tall, that’s the first thing Jihoon notices other than the perfect curve of his nose and shaping of his black hair. He’s looking down at him with a small smile on his face, a welcoming one that doesn’t make Jihoon feel completely mortified for not knowing where he’s going or what he’s doing. As the hand on his shoulder is removed, he also notices the boy clutching what looks like a bunch of flyers.

“Are you okay? You look a little lost.” The dark-haired boy asks, voice friendly, warm, welcoming. It’s like Jihoon is listening to _[I Say a Little Prayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtBbyglq37E) _on his dad’s record player as a kid.

“Uh,” Jihoon drops the id from his mouth onto his lap, almost says that he’s fine. Upon looking down at his map once more and the bags draped on his arm, weighing him to the ground, he stops himself and makes eye contact with the boy again. “I’m just a little bit stuck on where to find my dorm?

It comes out as a question, and he isn’t sure why, but the boy nods and crouches a little to see the map. He’s looking over his shoulder and Jihoon coughs a little before pointing to the square on the map that represents his new home for the next two years. 

“Right, well that’s— _hey_ , you’re in Letts Hall? One of my friends lived there in his first year.” Jihoon turns to look at the boy just to the side of him, eyes crinkling with his smile. “He really loved it there.”

“I’ve tried following the map but I just keep going in circles.” 

Taking the map from his hands, the boy places his finger to where they are both currently situated on the lawn. Jihoon notices his fingers are slightly crooked, very different from his own shorter, thinner ones. Watching as the friendly stranger drags his finger up the expanse of the paper, Jihoon hums in acknowledgement of the supposed best route to his dorm room.

“Where you’re going wrong is probably the fork at the trees. Keep to the left, not right. It’s not the main path, but it will lead you to the complex of dorms with yours in the first block,” Jihoon accepts his map back into his hands with a small word of thanks, making eye contact once again with the boy. “Got it?”

Jihoon nods, standing up from his suitcase as he shoves his student id in his pocket and adjusts the map in his hands. He stumbles a little with the weight of the bags on one arm, but the boy once again is there to help him, holding him steady by his elbow. It’s the lightest of touches but it means the difference between Jihoon remaining upright on his feet with only a slight wobble, or falling onto his face in front of thousands of new enrolling college students. He’s grateful for the prior.

“Thanks a lot. Maybe now I’ll manage to get there before nightfall.” It’s only nearing midday, but Jihoon emphasises his thanks with the insight into how lost he really was.

With a wave of his hands in dismissal, the boy shakes his head and remains smiling. “No problem, I hope you find it okay now and that you enjoy your time here. It’s really such a wonderful school.”

“Yeah, I hope so too, thanks.” Jihoon manages a small smile in return, unable to match the radiance of the grin on the stranger’s face (in fact he’s almost certain very few people would be able to smile as brilliantly as him). Still, he steadies himself and prepares to walk away in the direction he had been advised to take.

Only, as Jihoon has barely taken three steps he hears the boy let out a cry of exasperation, causing him to momentarily stop. Once again the boy is in front of him, this time with his brows raised and his eyes hopeful. He’s not sure what else the boy could want to ask him or help him with, so Jihoon quickly looks around behind him to see if he had somehow dropped something – which was very likely with his hands currently full. But, there is nothing on the floor or absent from his person, so he reasons that it’s something else, to which he is correct; he spots the flyers in the boy’s hands as he is motioned towards, a single pink-coloured page flapping in the light breeze.

“One last thing before you head off to settle in,” the boy winces, nose scrunching at the bridge only slightly, making him look a lot younger than he was, “we’re some of the committee for the campus radio here at the college and we’re trying to recruit new members for this winter semester.” A pause, which Jihoon presumes is to gauge whether or not he seems like an interested party. “Would you consider checking us out and signing up? We’re a really close, tight-knit group and always have a lot of fun, plus there are many jobs to do on the radio – not just the live radio itself.”

“I’m not—I mean, I like music, but I’m probably not the best guy for public speaking.” Jihoon stammers, processing the information. He really just wants to get to his room and settle in. The journey had been long and now he knew how to get to his new living area he just wanted the rest of the day to be easy. He already had to deal with the prospect of meeting new friends and the new roommate he’d be sharing his dorm with for the foreseeable future, so societies and committees and _commitments_ were the last thing on his mind at that current moment in time. He’d save all that for the societies fair in a few days time.

He takes a flyer anyway with the one free finger he has to spare, receiving an excited little bounce and smile from the boy. “That doesn’t matter – as I said, we have plenty of jobs for people who don’t like to be heard live on the radio. We review music shows and concerts, even do some podcasts and have some great parties, so just,” the boy taps the flyer lightly, “give it a read and see if it interests you.”

“I will, thanks.” Jihoon attempts to wave, trying not to throw his stuff everywhere as he finally departs from the spot on the lawn away from the boy. He finds it odd that he had been promoting the radio so early on until he spots numerous other students in shirts in every colour of the rainbow, all dotted about the pavement and lawns, talking to, helping, or coercing new students into thinking about joining whatever team or group they were in. Jihoon shakes his head, _college_.

It’s thirty minutes later, once he’s managed to battle his way through the crowd of anxious mothers, emotional fathers and frustrated newcomers, all to the sound of _[Ready to Start](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oI27uSzxNQ) _playing in his head (okay, at least he isn’t a complete walking cliché by having _Eye of The Tiger_ on his motivational playlist) that he arrives in front of his dorm room. The boy’s advice had been spot on, grateful that he had obviously taken the same route himself at some point in his college life so he was well equipped to pass down the useful navigational information to unknowing freshers, like himself. 

17A.

Dropping his bags from his arms, he pulls out his phone and keys to double check his room, only to confirm with a satisfied nod that this was it: his new home for the next few years. The key slots into the hole perfectly, and with a turn, he begins to push the door, only for it to swing wide open and reveal a beaming boy in front of him. Not only him, but what seems to be his whole family crowded behind in a close huddle.

“You must be Jihoon!” The boy almost pounces on him before he notices the extent of baggage that accompanies him, withholding the forthcoming hug. “I’m Seungkwan! Let me help you with those. Mom, he has a lot of bags, lets help him carry them in.”

Jihoon goes to protest, but before a word can form on his tongue the blonde boy – his roommate, Seungkwan – already has a hold of his loose bags and is passing them between his mother and the other girls beside him. He walks into the room; taking in the surroundings briefly as he follows Seungkwan slowly towards the unoccupied bed, a stark contrast to his roommate’s already decorated side of the dorm. The bed is neatly made up in a light blue duvet, framed with polaroids and drawings of whom Jihoon assumes are friends and family from back home. It’s nice, neat, and not at all what he was expecting from getting assigned a roommate practically last minute.

Seungkwan’s family lay down all Jihoon’s stuff on the foot of his bed as he rolls his suitcase to a stop next to their shared wardrobe. They are introduced as Seungkwan’s mother and two sisters, and Jihoon sincerely thanks them for helping him carry their stuff before they reveal it’s time for them to leave now that Seungkwan is all settled in (they had stayed purely to meet the person their boy was going to be living with for the next year, and Jihoon is glad he seems to fit an acceptable standard of what they were hoping for).

As soon as the door is shut, Seungkwan pounces on Jihoon with a tight hug waiting for him. Frozen to the spot in shock, Jihoon is unable to move his arms or legs and just endures the warmth and comfort of his roommate wrapped around him for three-or-so seconds. He slumps backwards when Seungkwan releases him from his embrace, full smile on his face, so full in fact that his cheeks appear swollen. Jihoon finds it oddly endearing, even if he wasn’t keen on the sudden affection – all he required was some prior warning before he was pulled into a hug of that manner. 

“I can tell we’re going to be really good friends,” the blonde boy sings, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. His excitement is infectious, and for the first time since he spotted the campus out of the back window of his parents’ car, he begins to feel that eagerness again himself.

“You know nothing about me,” Jihoon half-laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he turns towards the baggage surrounding his bed to begin to unpack. He’s opening the first bag’s zipper when he sees Seungkwan happily jump backwards onto his bare mattress, swinging his legs off the side. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the boy probably has to get back off as soon as he unpacks his bed sheets and covers, so Jihoon lets him stay there for just a while as he digs through his things.

“I can still tell we’re going to get along. My mom felt it too.” Jihoon nods, huffing as he pulls out a selection of clothing hangers and brings them to the two wardrobes against the wall. “Where do you— _oh_ , your wardrobe’s the one on the right—where did you travel from?” 

Throwing open the door to the closet Seungkwan had appointed him to, Jihoon hooks the hangers over the thin metal bar and turns to grab his clothes from the bags and suitcases so he can hang his various shirts and jeans. His eyes dart between his belongings and the boy still perched on his bed, eyes expectant and hopeful. 

With a swallow and a small smile of his own, Jihoon replies, “Uh, not too far away. I’m on the East Coast.”

Seungkwan claps his hands, beaming and jumping up when he sees Jihoon pulling out the bedding to sort out later on. “That’s so cool – I had to travel all the way from LA. I already miss the weather, but I knew that this school was the one I wanted to go to. It’s so beautiful right?”

“Right.” With his clothes hung haphazardly in the wardrobe, Jihoon sets about pulling the sheet over the bare mattress, whispering a word of thanks once again as Seungkwan steps forward to lend a hand and make the whole task easier and more efficient. 

“Have you got your class schedule yet? Maybe we took some of the same ones!”

They tuck the sheet in tightly, smoothing it down before Jihoon throws his pillow to the end of the bed, up against the wall. The final step is left for him to do himself as Jihoon pulls the duvet onto the mattress and steps back with a nod, turning to his roommate. He has a lot to unpack, but he decides he could do that all over the next few days, the voice in his head telling him that this was no time to repeat high school – he was going to socialise, he was going to make friends this year because everyone in college is in the same boat as him, and everyone was that much more mature. Jihoon hopes he’s not just bullshitting himself, but he knows that if he has any hopes of that thought becoming a reality, he had to at least attempt to bond with people – and there was no one better to start off with than his roommate. 

“I got it emailed to me. Sociology and gender studies, literature, and economics – though that’s mainly for my dad.”

“That’s quite a mix,” Seungkwan smiles. “I’m taking intro to theatre, and creative writing. Hey—I think that Minghao across the hall might be taking sociology too. Maybe even a couple of the other guys in the hall.”

And that’s how Jihoon meets Minghao and Vernon from room 17B, and how they all end up that evening in a local pizzeria, crowded around a table definitely meant for two. He learns that Minghao is, as Seungkwan mused, also taking sociology and gender studies, alongside art history and creative writing. Vernon, who seems to capture Seungkwan’s attention almost immediately, reveals he’s taking politics, psychology and American history, earning himself a grimace from the rest of them around the table. They get on well, Vernon seeming to work at the same sort of speed as Jihoon: calm, sure, treading lightly before making bold leaps into the unknown. They are the complete opposite of Seungkwan, whilst Minghao sits in the middle of both. Even after an hour or two, Jihoon concludes he quite likes them. 

“Have you guys thought about joining any societies?” Seungkwan asks, prompting the changing of the topic from high school and families to something that better revealed their interests. 

“For me, I was thinking of doing one sport and one leisurely thing. Like basketball and photography, for example,” Minghao smiles, swiping a French cry from the shared bucket of fries in the centre of the table, wedged between the four empty round plates. “But I guess that’s what the fayre on Wednesday is for, right?”

“Yeah,” Vernon shrugs, sitting so far back in his chair Jihoon was sure he was almost horizontal. “I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess I’ll tag along if you guys are going.”

“Definitely!” Seungkwan beams across the table at the boy opposite. “Oh, we should do something together, it would be so fun.” 

Jihoon looks from Seungkwan to Vernon and back again, eyebrows raised in anticipation of the boy’s reaction. He can tell Minghao is doing the same, trying to hide a small smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.

Vernon hesitates and nods, another shrug following. “Sure, why not?”

Jihoon feels all eyes on him then, his heart beating faster in his chest as if he’s about to sit an interview with a potential employer. Except he knows it’s nothing like that, these are his new friends and they’re just testing the waters, learning about one another and their interests. So why did he feel so insecure suddenly at the prospect of surrendering up his hobbies? 

With a deep breath, Jihoon opens his mouth and plays with his fingers in his lap. “I, uh, was thinking of joining a music committee. Something where I can play drums or keyboard, or even write music. Write _about_ music. Something, uh,” he clears his throat and looks each of the boys in the eye one by one, “Stupid like that.” 

“That’s not stupid,” Minghao grabs a few fries and nods at him. “You play drums and keyboard? That’s so cool.”

“Guitar, too, actually.” He adds when he realises he doesn’t sound as lame as he thought he did in his head. A wave of relief washes over him. “I just haven’t played in a while so I’m a little rusty. I just hope there’s something like that for me.” 

The college definitely has something like that for him. When Jihoon separates from the boys that following Wednesday at the societies fair, he can see on the small stall map he’d been given that the place he needed to head for the music area was directly in front of him, about two hundred feet from where he currently stood. He was mostly glad that the boys had run off to do their own thing, agreeing to meet up at the end only once everyone had taken a gander at what there was on offer. And there was a lot; Jihoon was in awe at the difference in number of non-academic activities there were on offer compared to his high school.

Walking past stands for the Video Games, Bad Cinema and Anime societies, Jihoon tries to weave through the massive crowds of new and returning students as committee members wave them over in an attempt to get them to sign up. He dodges punches from the Karate society and cuts between the Salsa committee mid-dance in his trek from one end of the room to the other. The crowd surrounding the music section is immense in its size and Jihoon is worried he won’t be able to reach the table of the committee, attempting to peer through the cracks of people’s shoulders. He takes a small step back, hands on his waist as he decides the best way to tackle this last obstacle.

“Hey, everyone. Welcome to the freshers fair,” a voice behind him speaks, very clearly into a microphone due to the volume of it and the sweeping scale of people whose attention they catch. Jihoon pauses his current thought process and turns his head himself towards the origin of the noise, only for his eyes to focus on a familiar face from his first day.

The boy holding the microphone is wearing a ginormous smile, hair styled in the same upwards side quiff as the first day he’d helped Jihoon out. He waves above him, long arms stretching upwards for many to see if they happen to be interested in the source of the noise, and as Jihoon observes the people around him he can tell for the most part that it’s working.

“We’re the radio society here, broadcasting the award-winning Live Wire station across campus and online,” Jihoon’s eyebrows rise at the impressive titbit of information the boy mentions. “We’d really love to see some new faces join our family this year, so head on over to our booth in section fourteen to come and speak to us about what we have to offer. Thank you, and we hope to see and speak to a lot of you soon!" 

The intermittent static from the microphone disappears as the device is turned off and the boy hands the microphone back to someone else manning the stall that gives him a quick clap on the back. Now he can properly focus on something other than the one boy that had helped him on the first day, Jihoon counts around seven smiling and eager faces alongside the boy all crowded around the table in their matching pink shirts. If their announcement hinting to their prestige weren’t impressive enough, the table is decorated heavily with logos and banners that would definitely catch someone’s eager eye. That, or the sound of _[Radio Ga Ga](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azdwsXLmrHE) _now playing over the speakers around them. _Points to whoever thought of that_ , he chuckles to himself.

“Hey!” A voice cuts through his inner monologue of thoughts and Jihoon snaps his attention towards the same boy, approaching him now with his signature wide smile.

Jihoon shuffles a little and wonders whether he should just turn back around and head towards the music stall through the crowd as best as possible, but the boy is on him in a few strides thanks to his long legs. He has no choice but to engage in conversation, and Jihoon scratches his head, putting on a smile.

“Hey.”

“Aren’t you the guy I gave a flyer to on the first day? The one with map trouble?” 

Nodding, Jihoon confirms his statement. “That was me.”

“Got there in the end I take it? How’s the room?” 

“It’s nice. Yeah.” _Nice one, Jihoon_. “Thanks again for that by the way.” Jihoon watches as the corner of the boy’s eyes crease and he really wishes he weren’t this likeable considering how much he wants to escape.

“No problem. You have second thoughts on joining the Radio, then? I did give you a flyer right?” He’s barely able to blink before the same piece of pink paper he had received is held up for him to see. He hates that the boy looks so hopeful and expectant, but as Jihoon glances past the boy to his right, he can see a sudden surge of people queuing for information or their sign up sheet. 

“Uh, no. I’m still not fond of the idea of my voice being heard if I’m completely honest. Besides,” Jihoon ushers to the stand with his hand, causing the boy to take a quick glance behind him, “It looks like you don’t need me to sign up.”

As their eyes meet again, Jihoon has to catch his breath because the boy really is incredibly handsome. He has _three_ beauty spots on his upper lip and cheek, as if one weren’t good enough, all shaped like a crescent moon in the night sky. It’s quite unfair considering he’s five-foot-six, barely out of puberty and still gets called cute in the ‘ _aw, you look like my kid brother_ ’ type of way. It’s frustrating, especially when Jihoon is faced with men of this guy’s stature. Way to knock his self-esteem.

“Every person counts, but if you’re really sure I can’t convince you,” he winces in anticipation that maybe Jihoon will agree, but once again he shakes his head, causing the boy to make a defeated sulking face that Jihoon feels awful about. “I tried my best. What else are you signing up for?”

Making a thumb over his shoulder Jihoon blindly points to the music committee, which earns him an impressed nod from the boy. 

“You play the music but don’t like to speak about it, uh? I get that. But hey, we actually interview quite a few gigs that the society do, so maybe I’ll see you around there sometime!” 

Jihoon can’t tell whether the boy is genuinely this friendly or is doing the most incredible job at putting on this persona to convince new students to join his group. Either way, he can’t help but hope that he does actually see the boy around – considering their two meetings coincided a mere four days from one another, he assumes that it’s more than likely.

“Yeah, maybe you will.” 

With a wave, the boy begins to turn around. “Make sure to listen to Live Wire on the speakers around college or online on our website! We’re live every day.”

Jihoon doesn’t get to say that he will before the boy is running up to the next person he can claim as his victim, and Jihoon wishes the unsuspecting girl luck against his overwhelming charm. She’s going to need it. 

So, with their selected societies signed up for, Jihoon meets up with the boys as they begin their trek back to their dorm. Seungkwan’s excited chatter about the drama and debate societies he had joined leads the majority of their conversation, Jihoon sharing smiles with Hansol and Minghao to his right as they listened to their friend. However, the main thing running through his mind at that moment was the feeling that maybe he’d made a mistake not signing up for the radio, even if he really hadn’t wanted to. He blames it on the boy wholeheartedly, because never before had he seen the appeal of speaking to people across campus from the studio about the music he loves. But, with a shake of his head, he tunes back into Minghao now speaking about his sudden decision to join the photography society.

Freshers week ends as soon as it starts, and in amongst the parties he gets invited to and forces himself to attend, the workload already begins to pile up enormously. Trying to manage time to do his homework in between rehearsal for the music society’s first upcoming concert where he has been carefully selected to play the drums is tough, but he manages – granted, on very little sleep (though, Seungkwan singing until the early hours of the morning does contribute significantly to his new inability to switch his brain off for the night). 

Before he knows it, Jihoon is five weeks into his first year of college, perched at his favourite table in the corner of the campus coffee shop, work spread haphazardly over two tables as he cyphers through pages for his class. He sits back with a huff, pouting as he clicks through his _[playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/k5qhot9vv771qmkkpu3bkyjws/playlist/2CpecHe7J0qgqVJBFVlaFJ?si=MSIRKQbeQSW49lOtb4W5tQ) _to find a suitable song only to end up putting it on shuffle. None of the songs sound _right_ at that moment, much to his dismay. He just needs something to get him through these next two weeks of classes and his society concert at the very end, then he reckons it’s smooth sailing from there until winter finals. Shoving his phone back into the table, Jihoon groans at the messy piles he has created, pulling at one randomly just to make a start.

All the coffee in the world can’t help him now— 

“Hello Live Wire listeners, thank you for tuning in to our station, or if you’re on campus currently, thank you for actually paying attention to whatever is being blasted over our speakers. It’s 1pm, it’s lunchtime and I’m Junhui, your host for the hour as usual. Let’s have some fun, yeah?”

But maybe a voice from above can.

Jihoon frowns, pulling out one of the earphones, letting it dangle freely by the wire. He recognises the voice, but the name doesn’t click in his mind; much like the feeling of knowing an actor from a film but not remembering their name at that moment, Jihoon’s irritation grows, as he is unable to place the voice to a face. 

He attempts to read through the selected pieces given to him by his literature professor, grimacing at the mixture of theory and contextual information linked to Byron’s work. But, no matter how hard he tries, the voice on the radio digs deeper into his conscious thoughts in between the mixture of both slow and upbeat songs. 

“—so with that being said, let’s move onto our next few songs. Up next is a little piece I discussed at the beginning. Hopefully, some nice studying music for all those tuned in whilst slumped over their papers,” Jihoon frowns, looking above him to the speaker there to see if there is a secret camera spying on him. There’s not, “Or even a nice tune to eat whatever you’ve packed into your lunch box today. With his smooth melodies and deep voice, here’s love wizard _George Ezra_ with [_Hold My Girl_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb_whk63zdE). Enjoy, and I’ll be back in a few for more love songs through the ages. Stick with me here on Live Wire.”

As the song commences playing, Jihoon’s eyes grow wide both in immediate approval of the song’s light acoustics and the sudden recognition of who exactly was speaking. 

Junhui was the guy that had helped him. _Of course_ it was. And of course he wasn’t only flawlessly handsome, but he had recommended a song Jihoon had never even heard of before but liked. _Scratch that_ , he thinks as the song builds with light drums and violins mixed with beautiful lyrics, _loved_. 

From then onwards, it’s like every time he’s on campus, whether it’s walking to and from classes, or attempting to crack down on his workload in the bustling coffee shop, it’s always Junhui’s segment on the radio. Although he rarely gets anything done in favour of listening to Junhui’s enthusiastic, honey-like words, Jihoon feels warmed by the boy’s constant presence, as if he’s broadcasting only to him. The songs he plays makes his chest feel fuzzy, their words of love planting themselves in his lungs so he’s breathing bouquets and constellations, always and forevers, and whatever else artists the sing about. He adds them all to his phone, every single one, and if he misses any of his broadcasts Jihoon makes sure to listen to the replays as he’s drifting off to sleep.

He’s caught by Seungkwan one day as he’s packing his drum sticks into his backpack ready to head to rehearsal, blasting out loud the replay of Junhui’s segment for the day on love songs from the fifties. The blonde boy bounces through the door, throwing himself onto his bed almost instantly, face buried in his pillow. Jihoon spares a glance at him with a chuckle, moving to pull on his shoes. 

“ _Mwf oo lusnen to?_ ” Seungkwan speaks into his pillow, muffling his words to a state of incoherence.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jihoon laughs, tying a bow on his left shoe.

Seungkwan lifts his head from his pillow, eyes half-closed and hair messy. “I said what are you listening to? It sounds like the radio we’re forced to listen to in the corridors.” 

“That’s because it is,” Jihoon clears his throat and switches his feet to tie the lace of the other one.

“You voluntarily listen to it?” Seungkwan is taken aback and Jihoon suddenly feels his ears heating up. 

“Only one part of it, the other presenters I tend to ignore.”

He stands up just in time to watch Seungkwan snatch his phone from his desk, squinting at the bright screen to read what is written there. Jihoon quickly dives for the device but fails to snatch it from his friend’s grasp as Seungkwan quickly retreats back to his bed.

“ _’Love music, Love Songs’_?”

“That’s the, uh, name of the show.” Jihoon feels the heat crawling down his neck now, hoping he isn’t turning a deep shade of red with the way his heart is… pounding? 

Seungkwan shrugs and offers him the phone back, Jihoon quickly taking it back only to pause the show and lock it. He’ll continue listening to it as he makes his way to the music society’s practice, but for now, he refuses to allow Seungkwan to judge him for tuning into Junhui’s show. 

“Is it good?”

Jihoon swallows as he swipes his backpack from the floor, turning back to face his friend. “Huh?”

“The show? I don’t really listen to it, it’s just background noise to me on campus, but I heard no one really listens to it outside of the main buildings or whatever.”

Jihoon pulls the straps over his shoulders and rocks back and forth on his feet. “I mean, it’s an award-winning radio station, so _some_ people must listen to it.” At the sight of Seungkwan tilting his head in wonder as to why he’s so defensive of something he’s not a part of, Jihoon quickly continues. “But, uh, yeah. It’s good for new music recommendations especially since my music taste was kind of limited to my dad’s music, R&B and really obscure stuff before.”

He nods, convincing both Seungkwan and himself that that was the reason he tunes in, and certainly not because of the charismatic host that felt like he was talking to and playing every song only for you. When Seungkwan pulls a face of acknowledgement, he reaches for his own phone and leaves him wondering what he could possibly be doing. 

“Maybe I’ll give it a listen. But if you want new music, you know you can always ask me!” The boy smiles, cheeks full and rosy (most likely from the obvious sprint back to their room he had done mere minutes ago) and Jihoon returns the grin as he waves and mentions he’ll be back late from rehearsing with the band.

Nothing in Jihoon’s mind makes him think that Seungkwan will genuinely listen to the radio show, their conversation was very much one that would be forgotten, surely. At least, that’s what he thinks over the next week as he goes to and from classes, his dorm and rehearsals for their impending show in T-Minus twelve days. But as he returns late one Tuesday evening to his room, he sees Seungkwan sat at the head of his bed, headphones in and screen bright on his face.

Immediately, Seungkwan yanks the wires and smiles at his friend as he walks in. “You were right.” 

Jihoon frowns, toeing his shoes off before entering further into the room and throwing his bag down by his desk. Sitting on his bed, he flicks on his lamp and removes his shirt to start getting ready for bed, confused as to what Seungkwan could possibly mean by that statement.

“What are you talking about?”

“The radio show,” Seungkwan bounces, mattress springs squeaking. “I’ve been listening to it all day.” 

Jihoon slows the pulling of his pyjama top over his face so he can hide his newfound blush in the fabric momentarily, clearing his throat as he slips his arms into the holes. “You listened to it all?”

“Yeah, there was a great show on movies and their soundtracks on at breakfast and I thought why not just keep it on all day. I’ve been super productive.” He gestures to his desk where a dossier of papers sits neatly with sticky notes poking out at all different angles. Jihoon nods impressed. “Oh, and your favourite segment was pretty good. Junhui is definitely the best host, no wonder he has the prime spots at breakfast and lunch.” 

Wandering over to their en suite, Jihoon turns on the tap to wash his face and change into his pyjama bottoms out of sight of his friend. Looking in the mirror, he lets the water droplets run down his skin and fall into the sink for a few seconds before grabbing his toothbrush. He doesn’t know why he feels his stomach clenching, but he hopes the mint of the toothpaste will help him feel less, uh… well, just _less_.

He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels like now Seungkwan listens to Junhui and likes his work, that Junhui isn’t his little secret anymore for him and him only. His broadcasts were no longer solely for Jihoon; they belonged to Seungkwan and everyone else at their university – even beyond. Hating that he’s acting selfish about something he has no ownership over, Jihoon scrunches his eyes shut and spits the toothpaste into the sink before washing his face.

The next day it doesn’t get any better. Wednesday is buy-one-get-one-free night at their regular pizzeria and the only night their group has completely free, so he, Seungkwan, Hansol, and Minghao all gather around four large assorted pizzas. When the conversation of classes and who has been getting with who run dry, and their plates are almost empty, Jihoon listens as Minghao argues with Seungkwan over which animal their creative writing teacher looks like the most. He never does hear whether it’s a horse or a mouse because he’s tuned out to the conversation by then. 

“—right, Jihoon?” 

Jihoon blinks and sits up straight, not having realised five minutes have gone by. He turns to Seungkwan who is smiling at him, and he winces. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You recommended the radio to me for new music, right?”

“Oh, uh,” Jihoon scratches the back of his head, stomach suddenly tingling at the mention of his beloved radio show. “Yeah. It’s great.”

Minghao nods in interest, placing a pizza crust into his mouth. With a few chews, he scrunches up his nose and turns to Hansol on his right with a point of his finger. “Isn’t one of the guys that came along to the rock climbing place you work at the head of the radio?” 

His eyes open wide involuntarily, clenching his jaw as Seungkwan offers up the guy’s name. It makes the butterflies grow restless in his stomach. 

“Junhui?” 

Hansol shakes his head, “No, Jeonghan’s the leader, right? He comes in a lot, yeah, but I think Junhui’s been in too whenever they have socials planned.”

“You know them?” Seungkwan raises his eyebrows and pushes Jihoon’s arm. He frowns and rubs the point of impact, never looking away from Hansol and he nonchalantly answers every question thrown at him. 

“Not really. I just take the payment and clean up.”

“I’ve seen Jun around campus though, he’s cool. He gave me a pen once,” Minghao smiles, grabbing a slice just as Seungkwan reaches for it himself.

Seungkwan claps Minghao on the back. “Jun? You know him well enough to call him by a nickname?” 

Jihoon looks down at his lap, picking at the crumbs that had accidentally landed on his black jeans as Minghao explains he doesn’t know him that well, but he knows all his friends call him that. Jihoon smiles without it reaching his eyes as the boys squabble over the last few slices and ask the waiter kindly for their cheque. 

On the journey back, Seungkwan falls behind (unusually, he’s normally the quickest walker of the group) to walk next to Hansol (ah, that explains it), leaving Jihoon ahead with Minghao. Both of them walk with their hands in their pockets but Jihoon is the only one scuffing his shoes along the floor.

“So, you’re a fan of Jun’s show?” Minghao kicks a small rock along the floor, landing in front of Jihoon who lets out a small chuckle until he clears his throat at the boy’s words.

“Uh, yeah. I listen to his lunchtime show sometimes,” _All the time_. “He gave you a pen?”

Minghao begins to laugh, squeaky and high pitched, the complete opposite of his seemingly cool exterior. “Yeah. I forgot to bring a pen to my class and as I was searching my bag outside, Jun obviously saw me and asked if I needed help. That’s when he gave me his pen and went back to his friends. Apart from that I don’t know him at all. I sometimes see him on the grass outside the Art Tech building. He’s quite popular from what I can tell, he’s good with people and good at speaking so it’s not really a surprise.”

Jihoon nods along, adding more and more to the picture of Junhui he had already established in his mind: from angelic-like in his features to a honey-toned voice, he was now also had lots of friends and even more confirmation of his charm alongside his great taste for music. God, Jihoon couldn’t stand this. He had to have a flaw somewhere. 

When he’s in bed that evening, Jihoon lies awake to the sound of Junhui’s latest broadcast playing in his earphones. The words of _[Hallelujah](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DO7H_enwz9A) _linger in his mind long after the song ends and Junhui wishes the lunchtime listeners a great rest of their day.

 

_Don’t you wish you knew me?_

_Oh, I wish I knew ya._

 

♬

 

“Are you all ready?” Joshua smiles at the rest of the Music Society as they gather around him backstage at the venue for their performance: the medium-sized off-campus club venue nearby. Jihoon and his fellow members all nod and reply with positive cheers, earning a warm eye smile from their leader. “I’m glad. We’ve been practicing really hard, so just have some fun out there!”

Jihoon twirls his drumsticks between his fingers and wishes good luck to the others as he psyches himself up for his group’s performance. They’re on second, and before he knows it the lights are dimming and the crowd are cheering as the venue manager steps on stage to introduce them for the evening. 

He stands with his bandmates, tapping at the wall to the rhythm of the song being performed by the first group as Joshua paces the room nervously biting his thumb. Jihoon halts his drumming and puffs his cheek out as he lets out a breath and approaches the president of the society.

“Hey, Josh?” Jihoon startles the boy slightly, but he turns around with as much of a smile as he can muster, eyebrows high. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is going great, right?” Joshua continues to bite his thumb a little, obviously anxious about something.

“Yea, definitely. Don’t worry, it all sounds good from back here and they seem to be loving it from the singing along of the audience.”

Joshua nods, dropping his head for a few moments. “I’m sorry I seem so antsy. It’s just, this is my first time being president and this is our first public showing. Last year the president did such a good job that I feel like I have something to prove, and now that I know there’s someone here to interview us after the show it makes me feel even more like I have to fill these big shoes.”

Jihoon blinks, opening his mouth slightly in response before shaking his head slightly to process what he’d said. “We’re going to be interviewed?”

“Just a few people if they want to. For Live Wire’s gig reviews.”

The name of the radio station rings in his ears, and whilst Jihoon was only feeling moderately nervous before, he now feels an overwhelming monsoon of anxiety and dread.

“Did, uh, did they say who was coming to interview us?” He asks, voice shaking with every word.

“No. Jeonghan, the head of Live Wire this year only just messaged me a few hours ago about it, which is why I’m kind of freaking out. But it’ll be fine, right? We’re good! We’re good…”

As Joshua trails off and begins his pacing about the room, Jihoon returns to his spot slowly, playing through all the scenarios in his head that could possibly take place in the next few hours.

  1. Jihoon has nothing to worry about and the person sent from Live Wire to do the reporting was someone other than Junhui. After all, they surely had tons of members, and he was already a radio host. Outcome: very likely.
  2. Jihoon has a lot to worry about and the person sent from Live Wire to do the reporting is Junhui. Following on from that, Jihoon makes an absolute fool of himself in front of the boy upon his third encounter with him. Outcome: also, very likely.
  3. Jihoon can just run away back to his dorm, claim he’s sick, or that there’s a family emergency and not have to see any sort of reporter, Junhui or not. Outcome: the most likely of all. 



But, no matter how much Jihoon wants to run away through the back exit to the venue right at that very moment, he knows he can’t let Josh and his other friends from the society down. They’ve been practicing for weeks for these performances, and it’s the first time anyone at the university and outside is going to see them. He can’t just leave because of some scenarios he’s painted in his head, no matter how likely the outcome.

Before he knows it, the first group are leaving the stage to large amounts of applause and his bandmate Seokmin alerts him that it’s almost time to begin with a nudge at his arm. Jihoon responds with a thumbs up, making his way to the side of the stage as the venue manager once again appears to build up anticipation for the next performer. He decides the moment before they take their places behind their respective instruments that he isn’t going to look at the audience but purely focus on playing the set of six songs they had practiced to perfection. He didn’t need thoughts of handsome guys clouding his mind as he kept rhythm with the others.

The crowd is surprisingly large considering they’re not a headline band touring in the area; they’re just a bunch of university students in a society, performing the week before Thanksgiving Break. He knows that a lot of the society members’ friends have shown up because he, himself, had invited Seungkwan, Minghao, and Hansol along for the special event. He presumes with the size of their society nearing thirty-odd people if everyone had invited at least two of their friends to see them perform, that the sixty-plus people at the front of the stage were all there by association. The other hundred people were just genuinely interested in the local music scene in their college, and the thought warmed Jihoon’s heart.

The lights are bright on the stage and Jihoon is glad that he can’t see the audience that well because of it. As he sits down behind his drum set it obscures his view enough for him to not worry whether or not he’ll spot a particular guy up close in the crowd. 

They play their set and Jihoon doesn’t have to worry about thinking about anything other than the bass drum and snares he hits in time with the cello, trumpet, piano and saxophone. The music fills his ears and flows through his blood, and for the first time in weeks, he feels completely content and free of anxieties. Granted, a lot of his stress was due to the impending nerves from the concert and the knowledge that his first big exams were upcoming over the next month, but now they seemed so far away as Seokmin sang the first few lines of [_The Lady Is A Tramp_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VJY97l0jVA).

As Jihoon hits the cymbal for the final note, he joins the others as they stand and move forward to bow to their rapturous applause. He joins hands with Seokmin at the end of the line, drumsticks clutched tightly in the other as they bow and bask in the clapping and cheering. He catches the sight of a group jumping from the corner of his eye, and of course, it’s Seungkwan, Minghao, and Hansol, all hollering his name and screaming at the top of their lungs. Not the usual reaction for a jazz band, he thinks, but he smiles nonetheless at the effort his friends are putting in to make him feel good. For that, he waves at them lightly as his bandmates all turn and begin to make their way to their places on stage for the final large music performance of the evening. 

Once again as Jihoon takes his spot behind one of the two pianos on stage and the entire population of the society take up their instruments, he feels the next thirty minutes fly by. Before he knows it they’re backstage standing before Joshua, wide grin now on his face in substitute for his terribly bitten thumbnail.

“You guys! Thank you for doing such a wonderful job out there.” He practically sings, still riding the high of the adrenaline from performing and the applause they had received. Jihoon smiles back at him amongst the group, all already equipped with various items they had brought with them, ready to leave as soon as they could. “I know you’re eager to get going and see whoever you had invited, but if any of you are happy to stay there is an interview with Live Wire being recorded here soon. Afterwards, some of us are going to head to a bar, so feel free to join – sorry to any freshers. Do we have any volunteers? It should take twenty-or-so minutes.” 

“It should only take about ten,” a voice appears from behind Joshua and Jihoon has to stand on his toes to see over one of the member’s shoulder. “I’m a fast interviewer.”

Option B.

Junhui claps hands with Joshua and sends him one of his captivating smiles, and Jihoon swallows as he then turns to look at the rest of them crowded in the small backstage area. He waves in greeting and Jihoon hates that he’s so star struck. Not only was the guy just a regular student, but Jihoon had also spoken to him twice before so he had no reason to be acting so pathetic and nervous in Junhui’s presence. Still, he couldn’t help his hands sweating so he wipes them on the fabric of his jeans. 

“I need maybe four to six people? One of two from each segment of the show would be nice.” Junhui scans the crowd, eyes friendly as students either mumble excuses to leave or step forward eagerly. Jihoon counts five people, including Seokmin, who have stepped up and without realising, Jihoon raises his hand to come forward as well. 

Stepping out of the crowd, Seokmin furrows his eyebrows at him as Jihoon joins his side and Joshua thanks everyone else once more before dismissing them.

“You’re doing the interview too? I thought you hated public speaking?” Seokmin queries as Joshua speaks to Junhui away from their small group for a moment or two.

Jihoon clears his throat and tries to look anywhere but the taller black-haired boy tapping his phone against his leg. “Well, uh, this isn’t exactly public speaking, is it? It’s not like it’s live.” 

“Right. Fair point,” Seokmin’s frown immediately turns back into his smile as he goes to pack up his stuff for an easier exit later on. Jihoon supposes he should do the same, but he finds himself glued to the floor with his drumsticks still in his hands watching his friend.

He was moderately friendly with most of the members of the Music Society, but from their first meeting, it had been Seokmin that stuck by his side. At first, it was like trying to remove a super magnet from a hubcap, as the boy just wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how much he subtly moved seats or put his headphones in to be left alone. But after a while he reminded himself that he joined the society for more reasons than to just do his hobbies – he was there to make friends with like-minded people. And Seokmin was a good guy, despite his incessant energy and weird habit of bringing a tupperware box of carrots and hummus to every rehearsal.

They wait as the venue clears and the noise level drops considerably before they all move out into the empty standing floor and bring chairs out to crowd around Junhui. Jihoon drabs a chair from by the bar at the back, checking his phone as he receives a text in his group chat from Minghao saying they’ll be waiting for him out front.

Slipping the device into his pocket, Jihoon sits next to Seokmin as Junhui parks his chair in front of their semi-circle and pulls out his own phone to record. Jihoon shifts in his seat, already regretting volunteering – Seokmin was right, he hated public speaking and this most certainly counted, no matter what bullshit he’d made up to say to him. And his fear of public speaking was made even worse knowing he’d have Junhui questioning him and looking at him with his gorgeous mahogany eyes.

“Right,” Junhui starts, opening the tiny notebook he also has in hand which Jihoon presumes holds a few starter questions he wants them to answer. “Before we start I just need your full names for the record.” 

Down the line they go. From Joshua Hong, Emma Coletti, James Berger, Dianna Appleton, and Seokmin Lee; finally it’s his turn to speak and Jihoon takes a deep breath as his eyes meet Junhui’s and he says his own name.

“Jihoon Lee.” His breath catches as he sees Junhui’s smile slightly change, blinking with kind, reassuring eyes as if he can sense how nervous he is and wants to let him know it’s going to be fine.

“Perfect. I just wanted to start with saying how incredible tonight was. I’ve been to these concerts a few years in a row now, and this was truly fantastic guys,” Junhui turns to Josh to point at him and Jihoon can’t help but feel pride for their president. “You nailed it, man.”

Joshua places a hand over his chest and shakes his head humbly, thanking Junhui for his kind words. With a toothy grin exploding on Junhui’s face, that’s where Jihoon zones out and the world goes into slow motion, a loud ringing in his ears. He watches Junhui moving his hands around and opening and closing his mouth as he speaks animatedly, but he can’t hear anything that comes out from between his pink lips and slightly crooked teeth. _He has to stop looking at his lips_.

It’s like he’s floating in the wide-open ocean, completely isolated from reality. It’s so peaceful in his mind when it’s only the beating of his heart in his chest and the only thing in focus is Junhui. He’s the waves Jihoon is suspended in, every ebb and flow carrying his next move. He won’t drown as long as he’s right there with the boy.

“—so who performed in the second group?” The words slice through his daydream so fast that Jihoon almost jolts from his seat as if he’s been awoken violently from a dream. He feels a nudge at his side, turning to see Seokmin with his hand raised. He clears his throat and Jihoon does the same.

“Seokmin and…” Junhui looks at his little notepad before making direct eye contact with him once again, “Jihoon, right?”

The pair of them nod, though Jihoon is sure he’s the only one whose hands are clammy as a result of the sudden interaction.

“Your group performed a selection of songs from the jazz genre, a fantastic contrast to the first performers with their rock classics, and I have to say my personal favourite was your last song – if I’m correct, _Sinatra’s_ song _The Lady Is A Tramp_ , right? Whose decision was that?” Junhui turns to look at Joshua as the head of the society, but Jihoon flinches in his seat, heart racing faster and faster. 

It had been him. He’d selected Sinatra’s classic; it was another one of his dad’s favourite songs and he’d never had the chance to perform it for anyone before so upon finding out that their group would be putting together five jazz songs to perform, he’d jumped at the chance to suggest the tune. Whereas he’d just been pleased with the prospect of sending his dad the video Seungkwan promised to take on his phone, he now had the added cherry on top of the guy he’d been admiring complimenting him on his taste. Before he could stop himself, Jihoon sits forward slightly and swallows.

“Uh, that was me. Jihoon.” He looks over at Joshua with a smile, who had already been in the middle of gesturing in his general direction, and Junhui’s attention turns back to him.

A smile definitely just made for him breaks out across Junhui’s face. “You have great taste in jazz.”

The blush that spreads on his cheeks overwhelms him instantly, and all Jihoon can do is sit there, heart swelling in his chest as if it’s ready to burst out in a spray of confetti. He just about manages to thank the boy without stuttering too much; clamping his mouth shut soon after before he starts speaking in tongues.

He merely observes and listens for the rest of the interview as Junhui takes turns between complimenting Seokmin’s smooth vocals, asking them questions about their playing styles, congratulating them more on certain aspects of their performances, and asking about their upcoming hopes and aspirations for the end of the year. Jihoon is grateful to Junhui for making Joshua feel better about his new position as president after taking over from the previous leader, and soon the interview is over as quick as it started. It feels like no time has passed, but as Jihoon grabs his stuff and checks the time on his phone he can see that it had, indeed, been twelve minutes from start to finish. A little over the time Junhui had predicted, but still incredibly quick.

Jihoon allows Seokmin to hug him and bid him farewell as he and the rest of the group begin to clear up and leave, allowing the venue staff to begin the full clean before shutting the venue for the evening. Jihoon glances over his shoulder at Junhui as he picks up this coat and belongings, watching him chat to Joshua in the centre of the room. His blush is still present on his cheeks, but he can’t help but want to go over and speak to him. _Fuck it_ , he thinks. He’s going to do it.

Shooting a text to his friends telling them he’d only be a few more minutes, he prepares himself and what he’s going to say. When Junhui claps Joshua’s shoulder with his hand, their departure gives Jihoon the perfect opportunity to approach Junhui before he takes his own leave. He stands and paces over lightly, gripping the drumsticks between his hands tightly so his skin turns white. Managing to reach him just as Junhui heads towards the back exit, Jihoon falls into line with him as they walk and taps him lightly on the shoulder following a deep breath (and a huge mustering of courage).

Junhui whips his head around to his left, confused frown immediately disappearing in favour of one of his killer smiles. Jihoon already feels like he’s made a huge mistake, how could he talk to him in this state?

“Hey!” Junhui starts, tilting his head to the side. “Jihoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Pause. Oh god, he’s paused. His mind is blank and Jun is just staring at him, waiting for something to say and, god, he’s really so unbelievably handsome up close. Think, Jihoon! Think! “Uh, I just wanted to let you know that I’m a big fan of your radio show. I didn’t get the chance to say it during the interview, but, yeah. I love it.”

The pair reaches the door, having walked through the backstage areas, and Junhui kindly pushes the bar across it to open the exit and holds it whilst Jihoon takes the cue to go through. Jihoon halts once they are outside, the cold chill hitting him as Junhui once again joins him.

“You’re a fan of my show?”

Jihoon nods a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, I mean I listen to both of your segments but the one you do on Monday and Wednesday lunchtimes is my favourite. My music taste is usually limited to my dad’s classics and the occasional R&B track, so your recommendations have opened up a whole new world of music I never considered.”

“ _The Lady Is A Tramp_ ,” Junhui cocks his head up a little, smiling knowingly. “That one of your dad’s?”

Again, Jihoon nods, his stomach doing a few somersaults.

Junhui scratches the back of his head and scuffs his shoes a little on the ground. “Well, I’m humbled. Truly, it’s so nice to hear that people actually listen to me voluntarily and not just because the college blasts my awful voice all over campus.”

“Your voice isn’t awful, I love it…” Jihoon almost chokes on the words as they spill out of his mouth, Junhui’s eyes widening slightly as he tries to justify the spew of words. “I mean, you just have a really pleasant tone and you’re really eloquent, and yeah.”

Tapping his drumsticks against his thigh out of nervousness and embarrassment, Jihoon hopes he hasn’t overstepped his boundaries. But, from the surprised and touched look on Junhui’s face, he feels like he’s only just managed to save his ass from the depths of hell.

“I’ve actually done a bunch of podcasts that are up on the radio website. Not many people check them out, as you can probably imagine,” Junhui laughs to himself with a shrug, “but you can listen to them if you like. None are quite as good as my radio show, unfortunately, but if you’re in the mood for variety and are a little sick of love songs then I recommend checking them out.”

“Are you promoting yourself to me completely shamelessly?” Jihoon’s eyes light up, trying to quell the growing _whatever_ he’s feeling in his stomach.

Another laugh, this so time light and airy it feels like Jihoon could float up like a balloon. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Jihoon falls silent and knows he needs to get out of here before he does anything so mortifying he drops dead on the spot; plus his friends are waiting for him and he needs to check to see if they are still there, or if they have left without him in favour of getting milkshakes somewhere. So, turning with a silent goodbye, he begins walking away from Junhui.

“I recognise you.” Jihoon halts walking, turning only slightly to look at the boy behind him. Junhui is standing with one hand on his hip, the other pointing towards him as he frowns in thought. He begins walking towards Jihoon only slightly, a couple of steps before stopping again. “I cornered you at the societies fayre, didn’t I? And before on the first day.” A chuckle. It’s like music to Jihoon’s ears hearing it in person and not just through the speaker of his phone. “We have a habit of meeting like this.”

Jihoon rubs his cheek with his hand, hoping to hide the blush once again creeping onto his skin. He lets out his own chuckle, “Yeah, that was me. I’m sorry again for not joining the radio.”

With a wave of his hand and a pleasant scrunch of his face, Junhui dismisses Jihoon’s comment. “No worries. I mean there’s always next semester.”

Jihoon’s heart stops momentarily the instant Junhui leans forward and winks at him. He has no idea whether or not he looks at all composed on the outside because his internal organs are malfunctioning; he has a butterfly infestation in his chest and a circus in his stomach.

“Right, yeah.” He manages, barely.

“Look, I have to get going. I have unhappy people waiting for me back home. I’ll see you around? Have a good Thanksgiving break.”

Jihoon waves until long after Junhui disappears from sight, forcing his hand back down to his side. He doesn’t know what is happening to him and it scares him that he can’t control it; he loses complete control over his feelings as soon as Junhui is around him in some shape or form.

He calms down enough by the time he joins the boys around the front of the venue, glad to see that hadn’t left him. That doesn’t stop them from heading to a milkshake parlour afterwards, however, as they congratulate Jihoon on his performance and Seungkwan proudly shows him the video he captured of him on his phone.

Thanksgiving break _is_ good, as if Junhui were an oracle or something. Jihoon uses the time to get a lot of his work done so he’s ready and prepared for finals season just around the corner. H2When he isn’t listening to Junhui’s podcasts (Jihoon’s personal favourite being the impact of social media on music sales), he’s listening to [_Leaving It Up To You_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZ7R5rfyCAs), a song he can only thank Junhui for upon his constant recommendation of the artist on his show. He lives and breathes his content throughout the rest of the first semester, breezing through exams with the motivation of a certain voice in his ear. 

One Wednesday night as Jihoon is packing to head home for Christmas in two days, Seungkwan looks up at him from his side of the room. Jihoon perches on the edge of his bed, double-checking the Live Wire website for the schedule over the break as the majority of his clothes for home lay around him in messy piles. The radio presenters had announced that their final radio show for the year was on Thursday, and Jihoon wondered how many of Junhui’s podcasts he had left to ration out over the Christmas holidays before he was left without anything to listen to. 

“Okay, spill. Who on _Earth_ has you smiling that wide? Because I sure as hell know it’s not an assignment.” Seungkwan sits up, pulling the headphones out of his ears with an eyebrow raised in question.

Jihoon tears his eyes away from his computer screen to meet the boy’s eyes. Smiling? He hadn’t even realised that he was practically beaming from ear to ear upon searching through the Live Wire website, but as soon as Seungkwan points it out and stares him dead in the eye wanting an answer, Jihoon scoffs and tries to ignore the heat crawling up his neck. The noise from his mouth does nothing to deter Seungkwan however, and Jihoon finds himself searching for something to say that will not give away the fact he was falling slightly in love with Junhui…

 _Wait_. As the thought crosses his mind it strikes him finally that the reason he had been acting this way around the radio host was not due to the fact he was ‘star struck’, no, he had a big fat crush on him and Jihoon had failed to put two and two together. He internally scolds himself, because of course, that was why his heart beat so fast whenever he was around him and, _oh god_ , he had a crush on Wen Junhui.

Jihoon brings his hands up to his face to hide his sudden embarrassment from his friend. How could he be so stupid? The boy was a couple of years ahead of him and they had barely spoken – why, oh why did it have to be him of all people he had a crush on? Why couldn’t he be like Seungkwan and have a thing for someone he was actually close to? (Poor Hansol had no clue.)

He feels the mattress next to him sink slightly under the new weight of his friend perching beside him, and soon Seungkwan’s hands wrap around his wrists to remove his hands from his face. Jihoon sighs and lets them flop back to his sides, closing the laptop lid before turning to look at the blonde boy.

“You know the radio show I listen to?” Jihoon starts, prompting Seungkwan to nod his head, “Yeah, well, the, uh, guy who hosts the love songs segment…”

“Junhui?" 

“Yeah…” Jihoon inhales deeply once again. “I think I have the worst thing for him ever.”

“ _Junhui?_ ” Seungkwan repeats and it makes Jihoon’s stomach drop because he doesn’t know what it means.

With a shake of his head, he scrunches up his eyes so he’s blind to whatever Seungkwan is expressing. “Listen, just forget I told you anything. It’s the stupidest crush ever, god, he’s like the epitome of unobtainable guys. I’ve spoken to him thrice, why is this happening to me?”

When silence fills the room for a minute after Jihoon finishes his sudden babbling outburst, he feels worried enough to slowly crack open one of his eyes to peak at his friend. Seungkwan sits chewing the inside of his right cheek, tapping his fingers lightly on his crossed legs. 

“He’s in the radio society, right?”

The words both startle and confuse Jihoon because of the sudden noise finning the previously deadly silent room, but also because Seungkwan _knows_ he’s in the radio. So why is he asking?

“Uh, yeah. Of course.”

“Then sign up.” Seungkwan turns to look him dead in the eye as he makes that statement, not a single sign of satire in either his voice or features.

“What?” Jihoon splutters, glad he’d placed his laptop to the side because otherwise, it would be lying flat on the ground from the way he had sprung up. “Are you crazy? I can’t join the college radio!" 

“Why not? You want to speak to him, right? What better way than to join the society you know he’s active in?” Seungkwan takes his hands in his own and Jihoon hopes he can’t feel how he’s sweating under the small tremors in his fingers. “What have you got to lose?”

Jihoon’s heart is beating quickly and he shakes his head at the mere thought of signing up. “I don’t know… He’s… Junhui.”

“Yeah, and the radio is the best way to get to know him. Come on, Ji. First week back after Christmas you’re going to sign up.”

“What if it clashes with the Music—?”

“You are not going to sit there and make excuses as to why you shouldn’t do this. You love music and you like Junhui, right? It’s effectively killing two birds with one stone. You get to talk to others about music, on air or not, and one of those people might be Junhui himself.”

Jihoon knows he’s right. Seungkwan most definitely is right. The words of the song he’d had on repeat play in his head, knowing that they’re also the key to the answer.

 

_To see you again, to be your friend, to hold you in my mind._

 

With a nod, Jihoon grips Seungkwan’s hands back and smiles nervously. “After Christmas, I’ll join the radio.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely un-beta'd because i needed to post it, but i will read through it and correct a bunch of bits at some point if anything is drastically wrong. but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> expect an update around christmas. summer and uni are stressful and whilst i have a bunch of stuff written for the next chapter i really dont think its feasible to post anything before then, sorry :<
> 
> check out [jihoon's spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/k5qhot9vv771qmkkpu3bkyjws?si=InvvnSMYRG24yQY_9y_6ew) for all his playlists, and upcoming music that may or may not make an appearance in the next two chapters.
> 
> thank you for reading. i hope you have a fantastic day/night wherever you are! ♡ [rosie](http://twitter.com/TARANTlSM)


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